The Singing Towers
by playing-violin-with-sherlock
Summary: We never saw River Song's final scene with the Doctor - that day where he took her to the Singing Towers. This outlines what I think should have happened. Rated T to be safe. Please review!


There's a knock on my door. I glance up at the bumbling young assistant who peeks his head through, and give him a charming (and exasperated) smile. 'What is it now, Anderson?' This must be the fifth time today that he's bothered me – although it's nine o'clock and dark outside, I've only been here one hour.

'Sorry, Doctor Song – it's just – there's a man looking for you,' he stutters.

I glance up, not daring to give conscious thought to the fluttering in my heart that started when I heard those words. 'Who is he?'

'He won't say, ma'am.'

'What does he look like?'

'Quite smart, ma'am. He's wearing a black suit, and a hat.'

My hopeful spirit sinks – not who I am really looking for, then. 'Send him through,' I say dully, returning to my work. I want a man whose _bowtie _would be the first thing anyone noticed.

The receptionist scurries away dutifully. I sigh and put my head in my hands. Why am I so tired? I must be coming down with something… I should probably get someone to check on me before I make it worse.

I need, in short, a Doctor.

I'm just wondering why I haven't heard someone come in yet when a soft voice sounds from right behind my ear.

'You've mixed up the dates of the Macra reigns, you know.'

I shriek and whirl around, eyes wide and hand reaching for the gun that I've only recently felt safe enough to stop wearing. He backs up slightly, hands up and eyes glinting, but still close enough to touch – and so I take his hand.

'Did I scare you?' he asks, lips curving into my favourite smile.

'No,' I say, still breathless. He grins, and I take the chance to look at what he's wearing. He _does_ look smart, very smart – the suit is definitely new, and the hair that his black top hat is resting on has been freshly cut. He's also wearing a white bow tie – he'd never leave without one, and I wouldn't want to see him without it.

He notices me looking, and pulls back to do an extravagant twirl, coattails flashing. He then sinks into a bow that any king would have been proud of, re-taking my hand and pressing his lips to it.

'Doctor,' I smile.

'River Song,' he says, his eyes holding mine. 'I'm taking you away with me.'

'Where?' I breathe.

'I… I've got somewhere in mind,' he says, and for a moment I imagine that his eyes look sadder than his smile would have me believe. But then he straightens up and says, 'Go get ready. I've got a dress for you to wear hanging in the console room.'

My smile becomes more playful as I ask, 'Will I be wearing it _all_ night?'

He rubs his neck in embarrassment – I never fail to shock him like this – but his eyes dance as he says, 'I can't make any promises. Now – go, go get ready.'

I skip off into the corridor and he follows. Anderson looks confused as I pass him, beaming, but the Doctor stops him from making any remark with just one glance.

'Don't wait for me!' I call over my shoulder as I fling the front doors open and find the TARDIS, parked very obviously underneath some trees (and, it seems, on top of a small fence). I shake my head at the terrible job the Doctor's done at landing her – I'm going to have to teach him properly someday. The Doctor darts in front of me so that he can open the doors for me, and I grin and brush past him as I enter the console room. The long dress is hanging on a rack, a beautiful and shimmering golden gown (with, I notice, a daringly low neckline). I seize it and run my hands admiringly over the fabric – it's soft as silk, probably alien, and almost definitely very expensive.

Turning to the Doctor, who's leaning against the console, I ask, 'Are you sure you wouldn't like me to change right here?'

'I – off with you!' he says, pushing off from the controls to make shooing motions at me with his hands, his cheeks slowly reddening. I wink and dance off to change right behind the archway.

He applauds when I swish in. The dress is perfect; it fits me like it's been specially measured and the colour, I'm sure, highlights the gold of my skin and hair, and makes my eyes sparkle.

'You look… gorgeous,' he says, even stopping flying the TARDIS to look at me – which of course almost causes us to crash. I lunge forward and save us by milliseconds, and he blushes (again), and says quietly, 'Thanks.'

He's still looking at me. I open my mouth to ask whether he chose this low neckline for a reason, before I really catch the look in his eyes. It's not just admiration (although that _is_ a prominent emotion) that they show, but once again that sad gaze, like he's looking at me for the last time.

'Doctor?' I ask uncertainly. 'Are… you okay?'

His face remains unchanged for just a fraction of a second before he shakes it and gives me his old smile, but it's a fraction of a second too long for me to think that everything's alright. Nonetheless, I forget about it and smile back, because if there's one thing I've learnt through years of knowing the Doctor, it's that he never tells you if something's wrong.


End file.
